


Shorty and the Heir of Salazar

by kuroi_the_golden_haired_witch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Indiana Jones Series
Genre: ...except Indy., Good Tom Riddle, Parseltongue appreciation squad, Post-Temple of Doom, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Short Round's name is Wan Li, Shorty is a wizard!, Whatever you do don't tell Indy about magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroi_the_golden_haired_witch/pseuds/kuroi_the_golden_haired_witch
Summary: Short Round didn't expect to ever find himself in London, and he certainly didn't expect to receive a letter from a school of magic. At least there aren't any death cults at Hogwarts... right?





	1. Welcome to the Wizarding World, Shorty!

Shorty sighed as he looked out the window into London. It was both utterly foreign and too similar to home. Being constantly surrounded by English spoken by people who stared at him for the color of his skin was a constant and grating reminder that Shanghai was a long way away. On the other hand, there was a tension in the air that was all too familiar. It was strange to Shorty the same war that this city feared was approaching their doorstep was currently ravaging the streets he had grown up on. It was for that reason that he was here, Dr. Jones had deemed Shanghai too unsafe for him, especially now that Han was gone.

The door to the hotel room slamming behind him pulled his away from the window as Dr. Jones’ voice penetrated the stuffy room.

“Shorty!” he barked and Shorty scrambled up from the table by the window upon which he had been sitting.

“Yeah Dr. Jones?”

“Got someone I want you to meet.” Dr. Jones walked into the room. Behind him was a man Shorty had never met, but quickly dismissed. He had seen his like hovering around Dr. Jones many times. Fat, comfortable, and looking for attention and power. “This is Horace Slughorn, he had bought items from me in the past.”

Slughorn chuckled, “yes, you are _unusually_ good at acquiring items.” Shorty blinked. The man’s tone, while arrogant, was also somewhat nervous. As if he was uncomfortable with Indy’s skill in archeological adventuring. Most of Dr. Jones’ clients had little inkling of how close to death the acquisition of the treasures they purchased often brought Indiana. Shorty blinked again as the man turned his attention to Shorty and looked him over. Shorty squirmed a little. Most of Dr. Jones’ wealthy backers took one look at him and dismissed him. That’s what Shorty _wanted_ it put him in a good position to defend Dr. Jones.

The fat man turned to look at Indiana. “As I said, I have some things to discuss with this young man, would you mind?”

Dr. Jones nodded, then smiled at Shorty, who looked between the two of them in confusion. Dr. Jones winked, then turned, “I’m gonna go get us some dinner, see ya later Shorty!” And before Shorty could protest, he was gone.

Slughorn sat down heavily in a chair next to the table with a sigh, then looked up at Shorty, “do sit down young man. I’m sure that you’re confused as to why I am here... well, here to talk to you. Slughorn reached into his breast pocket and Shorty tensed a little before he pulled out what was clearly a letter and held it out to him. Shorty took it with some hesitation, and, seeing the man still staring at him, opened it. He stared at the contents for a few moments, trying to decipher the writing. He _had_ leaned how to read English a few years ago, and was quite rusty. Luckily, the letter was short.

 

_Dear Mr. Wan,_

 

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1, September. We await your owl by no later than 31, July._

 

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Deputy Headmaster_

 

As soon as Shorty fully comprehended the letter he looked up at Slughorn, brow furrowed.

“You being serious?”

Slughorn chuckled, “yes, completely, my boy. You see, the things that you have seen on your adventures with Jones are not by any means the full extent of the supernatural in this world. Witches and Wizards have always existed, however, we hide ourselves from normal humans, whom we call muggles.”

“What are you smokin’ mister?” Shorty cackled. Slughorn blustered for a few seconds and then pulled himself together and pulled out a thin wooden stick about nine inches long.

“This is a wand, and wizards like me and you use them to perform magic.” He waved the stick, and all of a sudden, a burst of snow flew out of it. Shorty’s mouth dropped open, that was...

“Wooow! How did you do that?” he exclaimed, grabbing the stick. Slughorn spluttered and tried to grab it back.

“What? You can’t just take a wizard’s wand like that, it’s quite rude...”

“Then you shoulda kept a better hand on it, or better yet, magic it back to you or somethin’.” Shorty looked at the fat man expectantly.

“But... wizards cannot do magic without a wand, at least, not intentionally.”

Shorty sighed and handed back the stick. Then he crossed his arms. “So, how’d you know that I’m a wizard then? What’s this school and why ain’t I ever heard of it?”  

“Can you imagine what kind of trouble someone like your mentor could get into if he knew that magic truly existed?” He shook his head, “its bad enough that he seems to be able to circumvent the magic of ancient wizards without much trouble. If he knew for certain that magic truly existed, the havoc he would wreak!”

Shorty found the man’s terror of Dr. Jones to be entertaining, but he understood what the man was trying to say. However, he thought the man’s perspective was a little naive. Obviously Dr. Jones could get into much more trouble with magic, but magic, assuming it truly did exist, would be far more destructive in the hands of warring muggle governments than a well-meaning archeologist.

“As for how I know you’re a wizard, haven't you ever done anything... something you couldn’t explain? Especially when you were feeling strong emotions?”

Shorty stared at him for a moment. It had never occurred to him... Up until the man had said that he had been thinking of magic as something flashy, but Shorty had always noticed that he was, at times, much stronger than other kids his age, despite his size. He suddenly thought of the trance that had overtaken Indy and the Maharajah and wondered, not for the first time, why it was that the fire trick worked. Perhaps it was not, as he thought, the pain, but something that he in particular was doing? After all, he was the only one that he knew of who had ever attempted and succeeded in freeing someone from the trance. However, Shorty did not express this to the fat man, it was none of his business anyway, he just nodded. Slughorn beamed.

“There, you see? Now, will you be attending Hogwarts?”

“Are there other options?” Shorty asked curiously. He assumed that there must be magic schools all over the world, since he was from Shanghai, there had to be other wizards there.

“Of course! Though you only recieve a letter from the school you’re closest to at the time, there is also a school nearer to where you’re from, Shanghai I understand?” Shorty nodded. Slughorn shook his head. “Yes, well, I understand that many Chinese people prefer to come to Hogwarts during these difficult times as the main school of witchcraft and wizardry in that area is in Japan.” Shorty wrinkled his nose, and Slughorn chuckled again. “Yes, I thought not. There is also a school in America, where I understand from Jones, is where he was intending to take you. However, I will say that Hogwarts has a greater number of... oriental students attending than the american school due to our muggle counterparts’ strong influence in India and many parts of China.” Shorty nodded. That made sense, though he was curious if British wizards had also invaded India and Hong Kong like the muggles had. Slughorn’s phasing seemed to suggest that they hadn’t, but you never knew with rich white men. They liked to talk fancy about awful stuff that they did.

“So, will you be coming to Hogwarts?” Slughorn asked again. Shorty nodded. Slughorn smiled. “Excellent. I will let you inform Jones, and I’ll inform him that I shall return in a week to show you where to get your school supplies. And...” he leaned in closer, as if to share a secret, “please don’t tell him about magic, would you?”

Shorty grinned. “‘Course mister. He won’t hear about it from me!”  He was definitely going to figure out how these wizards maintained their secrecy. Just in case.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later saw Shorty, bag in hand, saying goodbye to Dr. Jones. Slughorn was waiting for him, to take him to what Shorty guessed was a magical market. How they would hide such a thing in the middle of London was beyond Shorty, but he didn’t really know anything about magic yet, so he had no room to talk. Dr. Jones hugged him, then pulled a small package out of his bag. Shorty knew a bundle of money when he felt it.

“Here ya go kid, give this to the bank and get whatever it is that you need.”

Shorty wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him again. He may sometimes think Dr. Jones was stupid and may have saved his life a couple times, but Indy was still the reason that Shorty was probably alive right now. He pulled away and glared at Indy,

“Stay out of trouble Dr. Jones.”

“You too, Shorty.” And with that, Indy walked off down the street. He had managed to book a ship back to America. Shorty would stay in a hotel in the magical part of London, which Slughorn had assured Dr. Jones that many foreign students did. Slughorn gestured to Shorty, and he followed. It wasn’t too far to get to where they were going, but after five minutes the fat man was sweating like a pig. Shorty was relieved when he pointed out the pub that only they could see. The interior reminded him a lot of the gambling houses back home, smokey and dim, but without the characteristic smell of opium. Instead, it was a new smell, different. Shorty wondered what wizards _did_ smoke. Was it tobacco, like muggles, or something different?

He didn’t have long to contemplate as he followed Slughorn out behind the pub and watched as he tapped on a brick, Shorty being careful to memorize which one it was. It would be inconvenient to not be able to retrace his steps later. It was only when the bricks started to shift that it really hit Shorty that he was entering a different world. And boy did it look like it. The Alley was full of all kinds of people, some that didn’t really look quite human. As they made their way down the street Shorty’s eyes took in all manner of shops, many of which had magical displays in the windows.

The fat man was huffing and puffing next to him, and Shorty wrinkled his nose as they trundled along at a snail’s pace. By the time they reached the large white marble bank building, Shorty found himself hoping that the man’s heart would give up so Shorty could get on with his shopping. He bit back and snort of laughter at a sudden vision of Mola Ram attempting to locate the man’s heart amongst the folds of fat. When they reached the bank, Slughorn gestured up the steps,

“Why don’t you...” he puffed for breathe, “go on in and exchange the money Jones gave you while I wait here?” Shorty nodded, careful to not show his amusement at the man’s obvious aversion to stairs. However, his amusement was short-lived as he ascended the steps to the bank. There was some sort of inscription in the marble right next to the doors, clearly English, but it meant just as little to him as the inscriptions in Doctor Jones’ ancient temples and tombs. He stopped short as he entered the main atrium of the bank. Slughorn had mentioned in passing that Goblins ran the place, but even after walking through Diagon Alley he wasn’t prepared for the reality of seeing such creatures. Cautiously, he approached one that seemed to not be helping someone at the moment and waited. The Goblin pretended to ignore him for a few minutes, but Shorty wasn’t about to be intimidated. He’d worked for mobsters in Shanghai much more intimidating than the Goblin, magical or not. His patience paid off as the Goblin carefully finished his notes and looked up.

“Can I help you with something, wizard?”

“Yes, Mister. I have some pounds... I mean, muggle money, that I would like to change into wizard money.”

The Goblin seemed to blink a little at his accent before leaning forward. “And do you have an account with us already?” Shorty could see the Goblin’s sharp teeth now, as his lips curved upward but he honestly couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace.

“No, mister.”

“Sharptooth!” the Goblin barked. “None of this mister business, use my name. Would you like to open an account, or just change the money?”

Shorty looked up at the Goblin for a long moment before saying, “is there any benefit to having an account?”

Sharptooth’s teeth became even more visible in what Shorty was now sure was a smile. “A smart wizard would know that making an account with Gringotts opens up many opportunities that would otherwise be unavailable, mail ordering, investments... business.”

“Well then I guess I’ll open an account.” Shorty said. It didn’t take long for the papers to be signed and for Shorty to hand over Dr. Jones’ money to the creepy creature. He received back a number of coins which looked like they would have been more at home in a celtic crypt than in his pockets, but he wasn’t about to be picky. Money was money.

Upon exiting the Bank, Shorty found that Slughorn had managed to get himself involved in conversation with a number of ‘associates.’ As far as Shorty could tell they were just people richer than him who he was sucking up to. Shorty stuck around just long enough to tell him that he could manage on his own before slipping off to go look for supplies. Thank god Dr. Jones had finally ditched Willy, when they arrived in London. The woman had proved herself to be a nice person, but she was still easily entranced by shiny things and was, well, stupid. It was probably a good thing that she and Slughorn had never met, although, based on Slughorn’s face whenever he mentioned muggles, he wouldn’t have had much interest in her anyway.

He was tempted to get his wand first, because that seemed like the coolest thing on the list, but figured that he should look around before he started spending Dr. Jones’ money. After all, he had a week before the school started, so there was no reason not to shop around. Shorty very quickly discovered that the main drag of Diagon Alley was not only tiny compared to the sprawling markets of Shanghai, but also very limited in its options.

The one bookstore he found, Flourish and Blotts didn’t seem to stock any books in Mandarin, which was unfortunate as he didn’t read english all that well. He had been hoping to find a Mandarin translation of most of his school books, or, at the very least, find a spell that could translate his school books into Mandarin or something. Shorty grimaced. When he had first been told that he was a wizard who could attend a wizarding school he had forgotten that wizard school, no matter how cool, was still school. He wasn’t made for school.

After a couple hours of browsing he found himself back near the bank building, where he suddenly realized that there was a small alley branching off back behind the bank. Shorty grinned, now this was what he lived for. Sauntering through the gap between buildings, he immediately noticed the difference between this place and the main alley. This place felt a lot like the underground of Shanghai, where people doped up on opium and desperation ended up. However, Shorty also noticed that there were an number of bookshops and even another wand shop. He was about to take a closer look in one of the windows when an accented voice said,

“Shorty?”

He quickly turned around to see the last person he expected to see in wizarding Britain. “Maharajah?” He said, eyes skimming over the slightly older boys’ bodyguards before looking back at him. Zalim smiled,

“I had thought it was you. That cap is quite distinctive. I was unaware that you were a wizard, though I suppose you might have been unaware as well?” Though he spoke seriously, Shorty could see his smile.

“Yes, imagine escaping from a crazy death cult only to realize that you too could remove people hearts if you truly desired.”

Zalim smirked, then looked around. “What are you doing here? I am fairly certain that the first year’s list does not include anything that you would need to come to Knockturn Alley to find.”

Shorty scoffed, “Maybe if you’re actually fluent in English.”

Zalim’s eyes widened with understanding. “Ah, well. I can help with that, come with me!” And without further ado Shorty found himself being dragged further down the Alley. He was so absorbed in looking around the darker shops that he found himself surprised at the sudden scent of spice drifting on the air. He had just enough time to register Zalim’s quick smirk of satisfaction before he was pulled straight into a market that could have been back in Shanghai. Shorty’s mouth dropped open.

“What??”

Zalim smirked. “We’re not the only asian people around, here, welcome to Orient Alley.” Shorty’s eyes drank in the bright colors of Saris and the comforting sound of Mandarin and the occasional snatch of Shanghainese before he turned to Zalim and smiled bigger than he had since he’d left Shanghai.

“Amazing!” He nearly shouted.

Zalim laughed, “I am glad that you like it. Also,” he eyed Shorty consideringly, “I would like it if you could stay with me before we leave for Hogwarts, if you would like that?”

Shorty nodded, then rolled his eyes. “Dr. Jones and the wizarding world don’t need to mix anymore than absolutely necessary. I don’t think he should be given the opportunity to get his hands on my school books.” Zalim laughed aloud, and nodded. Shorty grinned in return. He was glad to see the maharajah again. After the misunderstanding about his cooperation with Mola Ram they had only gotten to hang out for a short time before Dr. Jones had dragged them off to Delphi. It seemed that the encounter hadn’t permanently damaged the young prince. Shorty made a mental note to ask Zalim if Mola Ram had any connection to the magical world later. His musings were interrupted by a question from Zalim.

“What is your real name? I hope you do not expect for me to introduce you as Shorty.” Zalim said in a teasing tone. Shorty blinked, he hadn’t thought much about or used his real name in years. Though, he supposed that it might have been a better way to introduce himself to a maharajah than just his nickname.

“Wan Li.”

“Well then, Wan Li. It is a pleasure to meet you. You may call me Zalim.”

Shorty smirked, “Maharajah a bit long for everyday use, huh?”

Zalim smirked back, “no more than Short Round, if you would like to use it.” Shorty contemplated it for half a second before he shook his head. He was sure that many people in this country would come up with stupid nicknames for him without him helping them out. Zalim smiled, something much more genuine than he had seen on his face before. “Welcome to the wizarding world, Wan Li.”


	2. Bonding over Boggarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's third year, and that means boggarts! We're assuming that Lupin, unlike other DADA professors we could mention, was actually following a historical lesson plan :)

* * *

 

Li was racing to Defense against the Dark Arts. He was anxious not to be late, as Professor Merrythought was not someone Li wanted to provoke. And so he and his friends, Ju-long Chang and Kim Soon-hee were jumping up the cold stone stairs, wishing that they hadn’t spent as much time wading in the lake. At this point they’d either get to class a second before it would begin, in the best scenario, or two minutes after class began in the worst.

The timing could not have been worse: emerging from a knight’s suit of armor, Peeves the Poltergeist chanted, “Wee little Lee is in a hurry he is.”

“Not now Peeves,” Li replied.

“Oh, what cheek you have Wee Lee.”

“As if Shorty was bad enough –”

“Ah ickle wee-Lee–”

“Shut up Peeves!” Ju-long Chang shouted.

“Say please and I shall say nothing.”

“Please shut up.”

“NOTHING! Hahaahaaa.”

“Ickle Lee, Junie and Soonie.”

“Call him Ju-long.” Soon-hee said defensively.

“And call her Soon-hee.” Ju-Long said.

“Ickle students try correcting Peeves! How dare they!”  

Thankfully, Peeves looked pretty bored by this point, and he made his way to a candelabra whose candle sticks screamed in terror as they realized they were in grave peril.

By the time that Li, Soon-hee and Ju-long were free from the poltergeist, their jumps up the stairs grew even more frantic. They squeaked damply to the door, and they had built up so much momentum that they made a rather noisy, and late entrance. “Fifty points deducted from Gryffindor.” Professor Merrythought said. Li, Soon-he and Ju-long nodded and shuffled their way to the back of the class.

Their classmates were crowding around their Defense against the Dark Arts Professor as they stared apprehensively at the wardrobe on the other side of the room. Professor Merrythought didn’t seem amused by this as she eyed the group for her first victim. Li didn’t shy away, but he didn’t catch her eye either. He wouldn’t say that Merrythought was a _bad_ professor (no, that distinction was awarded to Binns), but she did take a concerning amount of pleasure pushing her students to their limits.

“Septimus Weasley,” she barked, “it’s your turn.”  

Li’s red-haired Gryffindor dorm mate stepped forward, shuffling his feet nervously. Merrythought shot a spell at the wardrobe and the doors opened to reveal several stacks of books.

“Afraid of books Weasley?” Quin Nott, a Slytherin, began taunting Septimus. “That explains a lot.”

Li grinned. He didn’t particularly like Nott, but he wasn’t close enough to Weasley to sympathize with him. All the boy seemed to care about was Quidditch. But just as the class started laughing at poor Septimus, an abnormally gigantic silverfish crawled out of one of the books in the middle of the bookshelf. It was very strange to see an insect that had apparently fit within the pages of one book dwarf over half of the other books in size, and knock several of them out of the wardrobe. Septimus was not the only person to gasp.

“Remember, _riddikulus. Riddikulus riddikulus_ .” Professor Merrythought encouraged Septimus. Septimus pointed his wand at the boggart and shouted, “ _Riddikulus!_ ” The silverfish was suddenly wearing a bib and crying like a human infant before acquiring a pair of rollerskates. The rollerskates caused the silverfish to lose its balance, and the class was uproariously mirthful.

“Riddle!” Merrythought barked. A dark-haired Slytherin stepped forward for his turn. The boggart quickly turned into a bomb falling from a Jerry Luftwaffe plane, dropping to the bottom of the cabinet and opting to not explode. It sat there, menacingly, the dud of a bomb:  Li froze, looked at it and then glanced at Riddle, who seemed equally frozen. At that very moment an identical hovering menace was probably wreaking havoc in London. He was paralyzed, not ready to even murmur the spell. “Say it Riddle! It’s a simple enough spell.” Professor Merrythought was clearly trying to embarrass Tom into saying the spell.

“ _RIDDIKULUS_!” Riddle shouted, angry at both the bomb and Professor Merrythought’s taunts.  The bomb burst into confetti.

Five students later, it was Li’s turn to face the boggart. Li had not been reassured by the sight of a bomb bursting into confetti. He hadn’t even considered the bombings as a possibility when he was thinking of fears. His immediate thought had been of the Temple of Doom and Indy hitting him across the face. He wasn’t sure how a boggart related to those events might have manifested, but he knew it would be hard to explain. He stepped forward and the boggart shifted from a clown whose rubber nose had turned against him into a bomb. In his case it was falling from a Japanese IJAAF plane, once again falling to a spot a few inches from the bottom of the wardrobe and exploding. Li could almost hear screams of his family before it bounced back to the top of the wardrobe. Li was just as paralyzed as Riddle had been earlier, unable to even murmur the spell.

“Come on, Mr. Wan, it isn’t as if the spell is difficult.”

 _“RIDDIKULUS_!” Li resented Professor Merrythought’s taunts almost as much as he feared the boggart, which promptly burst into confetti just as Riddle’s had.

“Good!” Merrythought barked. “Goyle!” The Slytherin girl stepped forward as Li stepped back into the clump of students. He briefly made eye contact with Riddle. He blinked, then nodded slightly at the boy, who nodded back. Goyle’s boggart turned into a snake. This was odd insofar as Slytherins generally revered snakes rather than fearing them.  

“Doctor Jones!” Li shouted, and began chuckling a little.

“Hush Mr. Wan,” Professor Merrythought said. “Ms. Goyle will need to concentrate.”

The serpent, undeterred by a _Riddikulus_ spell, grew more menacing, and even began slithering towards Goyle.  
“ _Riddikulus!_ ” Goyle exclaimed. The serpent was suddenly wearing a miniature brown fedora hat, that caused Shorty to hold back a cackle as it was identical in all but size to the hat Indy usually wore. In addition to this, the snake was also carrying a satchel containing some heavy object, tied around the middle of its body. This dragged the snake to the floor, and its mouth opened into a ludicrous grin that wasn’t quite less menacing than its original expression.

Soon-hee stepped forward, and found her boggart turn into a Werewolf. She had planned out her response in advance, and quickly imagined the lupine beast wearing a leash and collar before shouting _Riddikulus_. The boggart whimpered pathetically until Professor Merrythought stepped forward and said, “Very well, class is dismissed,” waving her wand as the Wardrobe doors slammed shut.

As the students filed out of the room, Li saw Quinn Nott  was asking Tom, “Hey Riddle, what was _that_ about anyway?”

“Oh, that. Nothing to write home about. What puzzles _me_ is that Goyle’s boggart was a snake. Now what was that about Goyle?” Tom asked.

Nott’s mocking scorn was very effectively redirected, as he turned to Goyle and said, “Yeah, Goyle, why in Merlin’s name are you afraid of snakes?”

“I don’t know,” Goyle said sheepishly as she looked down at her shoes, “I just am, I reckon.”

Li, bored of these snide attempts at one-upmanship, left the room.


End file.
